


A Clash of Queens

by Streets_Ahead



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streets_Ahead/pseuds/Streets_Ahead
Summary: Yara breaks out of her uncle's prison and goes straight to Dragonstone.





	A Clash of Queens

The roar of the sea was a constant sound at Dragonstone. Even within Daenerys’ chambers, located in the heart of the fortress, the crash of waves against the rocks permeated the weathered stone walls. It didn’t take long for Daenerys to get used to it; in fact, she couldn’t imagine falling asleep without the fierce lullaby of the ocean.

  
So the interruption of heavy footsteps pulled her away from sleep on this night. Daenerys warily sat up, blankets pooling around her hips. She missed the long summer. While her Dragonstone chamber was warm, it was still Northern air, and the Dragon Queen had spent her life in the sweltering heat across the Narrow Sea. She had grown used to the sleeping gown she now wore to bed, but she missed sleeping naked under silken sheets.

  
The footsteps stopped outside her door, followed by a knock.

  
“My queen!” Missandei’s voice pierced through the thick oak. “My queen, I’m so sorry to wake you, but she wouldn’t wait-”

  
The door burst open, revealing the silhouettes of Missandei and her companion, who strode into the chamber with the bravado expected of a pirate queen. Daenerys, who had remained motionless at the abrupt intrusion, was unable to keep her jaw from dropping.

  
“Yara,” she breathed. Yara Greyjoy, a little thinner, eyes a little more shadowed, smirked and stepped further into the room.

  
“Your Grace, if I’d known this is what it took to get you to say my name like that…I would’ve broken out of Euron’s dungeons weeks ago.”

  
Daenerys’ eyebrow twitched. Missandei coughed conspicuously. The dragon queen’s eyes flicked from Yara to Missandei’s expressionless gaze.  
“Missandei,” Daenerys said, “thank you for accompanying her. Take your leave and get some rest.”

  
Missandei raised an eyebrow, took a long look at Yara, then bowed at Daenerys, turned on her heel, and stepped back into the shadowed hallway. Yara waited for her footsteps to fade before closing the heavy oak door, taking the time to rake her eyes over Daenerys’ inscrutable expression, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders, to the thick bedding pooling around her hips. Daenerys did not appear perturbed by her leering gaze. In fact, Yara could swear she saw the silver-haired queen’s nipples hardening underneath her nightgown as Daenerys swung her legs off the bed and to the ground.

  
Perhaps it was her own longing imagination. She had thought of Daenerys’ breasts often enough while chained in her uncle’s dungeons. While she waited for fresh cuts to heals, as bruises bloomed across her face and body, she imagined extreme scenarios to escape her bleak reality. She would imagine returning to Dragonstone and finding her queen in the throne room, her large eyes widened in shock that Yara had come back. Yara would quickly close the distance between them, backing Daenerys into the cold stone wall, holding her there by the throat as she hungrily claimed their first kiss. Yara had imagined feeling Daenerys’ pulse quicken as she bit the dragon queen’s lip, imagined her gasp as she tightened her fingers around that pale throat, just enough to leave Daenerys gasping for breath when she pulled her face back, nipples hard and straining against the wool of her dress.

  
In another fantasy she barged into Daenerys’ chambers, much like she had done tonight. In this fantasy, Daenerys was shocked by her valiant entrance, gripping her blankets around her naked body (it’s a fantasy, Yara told herself, of course she sleeps naked in my fantasies). Yara imagined herself walking to the queen’s bedside, placing her callused hands over Daenerys’ and coaxing her into relaxing her grip. Daenerys would be shy, of course, but would quickly yield to Yara, allowing the Ironborn to pull away the blankets with one hand while gently pushing against Daenerys’ chest with the other, compelling the blonde to fall back on the bed.

  
“Hush, love,” fantasy-Yara would say as she watched protests form on Daenerys’ full lips, “I lost my crown to a sadist, let me have my reward for outwitting him.” Then she would kiss Daenerys on the mouth, gently, and work her way down to her trembling body.

  
She’d never imagined that Daenerys would be the one to close the distance between them.

  
Yara’s back hit the door a dull thud, her surprised grunt swallowed by Daenerys’ wanting mouth. The Ironborn felt fingers tangle into her windswept hair, the other hand snaking around her waist. Lips, teeth, and tongue slid against each other in a fierce kiss before Yara recovered from the shock. She grabbed Daenerys by the hips, pulling the blonde queen towards her, before sliding one hand up the side of her body, caressing the side of a breast before continuing up to her throat, gripping Daenerys by the neck and pulling her back, breaking the kiss. The dragon queen’s eyes were unfocused, pupils large and filled with lust, lips pink with pulsing blood and swelling teeth marks.

  
“I thought you were dead,” said Daenerys, her voice heavy and wanting. “I thought you must be dead, with what you’d told me about your uncle.”

  
“I thought I was as good as dead,” Yara’s tongue was thick with lust. “Turned out he thought me a pretty trophy, something to parade around as a conquest. She could hear the bitterness creep into her words, and shook her head to repel the memories that followed.

  
“How did you get away?”

  
“Stupidity, on the guards’ part. They thought they’d have a bit of fun with their would-be queen one night. Thought it’d be fun to unchain and then overpower me.” Her lip curled in disgust. “They were wrong. I got a sword away from one, killed them, and escaped that night. Stole a dinghy from the docks and here I am.”

  
Daenerys heard the finality in Yara’s voice and knew not to pursue the matter further. Whatever happened to the Ironborn in that castle would be spoken of another time. Instead, she used the moment to catch Yara off-guard, grabbing the wrist that held her throat and pinning it back against the door. Yara exhaled in surprise. Daenerys brought her lips to the brunette’s ear. “I’ve thought of this,” she purred, “since you left. I’ve thought of this ever since I thought I’d never get to do it.” She nipped Yara’s earlobe, eliciting a groan from the other woman, then kissed her way down the Ironborn’s jaw until she reached her mouth.

  
Yara strained against the kiss, crushing her mouth against the blonde’s, biting Daenerys’ bottom lip then dragging her tongue across it, soothing the swollen skin. Breaking free of the grip on her wrist, Yara brought both hands to Daenerys’ chest and pushed her, sending the Targaryen stumbling backwards. Daenerys’ lips were parted and swollen as she recovered her balance. Yara closed the distance between them, fiercely kissing her once more before pushing Daenerys back again. Daenerys’ legs hit the large bed but she forced herself to remain standing, staring dangerously at Yara. “I’ve thought of this too, my queen.” The Ironborn said. “I think it’s time we made up for lost opportunities.” She stepped forward once again, hands moving to push Daenerys down onto the bed. The blonde instead grabbed the front of Yara’s tunic, pulling her forward and using the momentum to spin her around until the brunette’s legs were pushing against the bed. Caught by surprise, Yara’s knees buckled and she fell backwards onto the soft coverlets, Daenerys using the moment to nimbly climb on top of the other woman, straddling one of her muscular thighs. She greedily pressed herself against Yara, pushing one of her knees forward between Yara’s legs and leaning forward for another fierce kiss. Yara groaned, grinding against Daenerys’ leg. Her hands found the blonde’s hips, pulling her down, pushing her own thigh up against Daenerys’ hot center. She felt the Targaryen moan into her mouth at the force.

  
“Let’s get that dress off of you, love,” Yara said, her voice husky and dripping with want. Catching Daenerys off-guard, Yara pulled back her leg and pushed the blonde woman off of her, using the space to strip herself of her tunic and undershirt. Breathing heavily, Daenerys drank in the sight of Yara’s naked torso, then moved to pull her own gown off. There were more delights to come this night, and both women wanted to savor each and every one.


End file.
